Coming Undone
by Devon Goes to Heaven
Summary: In which Daenerys is held captive in King's Landing, and she comes face to face with the man responsible for her father's death.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Game of Thrones or it's characters.

**AN: **Yeah, so this idea came to my head the other day. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but tell me what you think.

Chapter 1

It had only been two days, two excruciating days since her capture. It had been a foolish mistake, and she wanted to kick herself in the head for it. She had went off with a small group of her people to observe a nearby village. She wasn't exactly sure how people recognized who she was, but she was surrounded immediately and delivered to the Lannisters.

She should have sent a party out to investigate for her. She had gotten too cocky though. Her constant success had made her feel invincible. She paid for her pride, and now she laid on dungeon floor in King's Landing. She only hoped that Jorah was keeping her people together till she returned. The thought of losing everything she worked so hard made her skin crawl.

She heard the sharp screeches from the iron door. A guard dropped a tray of food to the floor and left as soon as he came. Daenerys didn't even bother with it. She wasn't hungry enough to deal with the sour taste of the slop they fed her.

The Lannister woman would send for her at some point, and she eagerly awaited the moment. The last time she had spoken to her, her revolting son had dealt various threats to her life. Cersei's son a joke of a king, and it took everything not to laugh in his presence. She remembered staring him down with her head held high and a grin upon her lips.

Every detail of the throne room had become etched in her mind. She thought of the iron throne. She had gotten a mere glimpse of it, and ever since, the image of her sitting upon it was burned in her mind. She smiled to herself. She envisioned herself seated on the throne as Joffrey begged for his life. She imagined calling for his death, and she could even hear the sound of the blade swiping his head off. The image of his head dropped to a floor played in her mind over and over.

She held that very thought in her head for a few more moments. That day would come, but first she needed to escape and return to her people. She was unsure of how she would manage that at the moment, but Daenerys was confident. She would make sure she did not die in King's Landing, at least not until she had the throne.

The door to her cell opened once more, pulling her from her string of thoughts. It was the Kingslayer, the man responsible for her father's murder. Daenerys narrowed her eyes and scoffed at him.

"My sister wishes to see you," he said.

"Does she?" Daenerys pulled herself up from the ground. She paced over to the man until she was only a few feet from him. She looked him directly in his eyes. "By all means then, take me to her."

She watched his every moment closely. His eyes scanned her up and down momentarily before returned her stare. It was clear that he wasn't so used to his prisoners, a woman especially, being so bold. Adrenaline spiked through her as she took a small step closer to him. She grinned up at him with all of her pride.

Tension crawled through her skin as she held her gaze. "Whenever you're ready..."

Her words hung in the air for a few more moments before he finally said, "Come with me."

Daenerys followed him outside the room, gingerly stepping over the bowl of slop on the floor. A pair of guards were waiting outside for both of them and followed close behind her. She paid no mind to them. Her focus was only on the man that was responsible for putting her father six feet in the ground. Her violet eyes seemed to pierce daggers into his back as she followed the Kingslayer through the grimy dungeon. She would make him pay.

As she walked through the halls, she saw people staring and whispering in her direction. There actions did not phase her in the slightest. It would only be a matter of time before these people bowed to her. The throne belong to her father, and it was her birth right. That is all that mattered to her.

She stopped at a door. Daenerys gave Jaime one final look. He opened the door with his good hand and thrust her inside. She could see Cersei Lannister sitting at the table. Daenerys stepped forward with her chin held high. She gave the woman a hooded glance and a cocky smile.

"Still with that smile?" Cersei said. "Perhaps you have forgotten exactly where you stand."

Her smile did not fall, and her gaze did not falter. She did not quiver or cower. She remained still. She would not show this woman any fear. She was a Khaleesi, not a scared little waif.

"If it pleases me, I could have you executed at this moment," Cersei threatened. "Do you not realize this Targaryen."

"I do realize this," Daenerys finally spoke. "And, if that is your intention, by all means do so."

Cersei's eyes narrowed into tiny little slits. She rose from where she sat, swiping a glass of water from the table in anger. She advanced upon Daenerys till they were face to face. Then, with the back of her hand, she struck Daenerys. The blunt force of her hand knocked Daenery's head to the side.

"If you value your life, you will tell me where your are hiding your army," her voice hissed with pure venom.

Daenerys said nothing, and Cersei struck her again. Daenerys still held her cocky grin upon her lips, and she watched as Cersei's features twisted as a result of her defiance.

"Get her out of my sight," Cersei whispered between heavy breaths.

Daenerys felt Jaime's strong grasp upon her bicep. She knew that Cersei would not kill her, not until she received the information she sought from her. Gears began to turn in her head, and a plan formed. She was in the lion's den so to speak, and from here she could observe her enemies. Although she was unsure of how she would eventually escape imprisonment, Daenerys was confident she would find a way back to her people.

She would return with her army. She would take the throne, and she would execute this woman, her brother, and her son. She thought of the woman Duur. She remembered hearing her screams, and the one thing she desired was to hear exactly the same from Cersei Lannister. She would get her wish even if it took everything she had.

* * *

Night had fallen. He should be getting some sleep, but he wasn't tired. There were plenty of emotions that ruled him at the moment. He was aggravated, angry, and emotionally exhausted. All these emotions gnawed at him, and he knew that sleep would not come until his body was so exhausted he'd just collapse on spot.

Jaime sat his glass of wine upon the table with a frustrated groan. It was midnight. He was sure that Cersei would be waiting for him, but he just wasn't interested. She was the cause of his emotional exhaust, and he was just about done with it. The more he thought about it, the more he regretted starting their disgusting joke of a relationship.

"What's got you down, brother?"

It was Tyrion. He knew by the sound of his voice. His eyes darted over to see his impish brother pacing into the room with a glass of red wine clutched firmly in his grasp. Jaime couldn't help but smile at the sight of Tyrion even if it was for but a moment.

"Do you ever get tired of it?" he said.

"'_It_'?" he asked. "I can think of several different things that you may be referring to, Jaime. Care to explain?"

His brother sat his wine onto the table and climbed into a chair next to him. He snatched Jaime's bottle of wine on the table and refilled his empty glass.

He let out a small nervous laugh before answering his brother. "I don't even know what I'm doing here anymore. I'm tired of being drawn into the controversy my sister seems to stir every single day. I'm done doing my family's business. Sometimes I wonder if you're the only one of us that isn't sick in the head."

"Ah, don't be so harsh on yourself," Tyrion replied. "I admit that your sister seems to create such trite situations, and I would rather not even get into how I feel about our father. You, I get along with just fine. However...I'd like to know something. If you are so displeased, what would you rather be doing with your life at this moment?"

"I'm not sure myself," Jaime said before releasing a frustrated groan. "Tyrion...it's just for for one day, one damn day, I just wish we could have a break from all this."

Jaime snatched his wine glass from the table and downed the contents. He set the glass down a little rougher than he intended to. Tyrion pulled the glass from him and refilled it before setting it right back in front of him. He watched his brother, waiting for him to say something profound like he always seemed to do in moments like these. Tyrion was quiet though, quiet and still like a boulder.

His sister came to mind, and his heart felt as if it was starting to tear. He pushed back the emotions that threatened to emerge. He still loved her, but the choices she often made drove him mad. Jaime was unsure how much longer he could continue what they have and maintain a sound mind.

"Jaime," his brother's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "I think it's time that you stop dotting on your sister all the time, and perhaps you might find your life easier if you start making decision for yourself. You will never be able to discover what you want if you're always defending what your father and sister want."

Jaime guzzled down some more of his wine, and his head was starting to feel airy. The alcohol was finally catching up to him, and his thoughts began to scatter. "I'm not even sure what I'm going to do."

"You may not know yet, but I'm sure that you come to some sort of decision. I'm hoping for your sake that whatever you plan to do next is the correct choice for you."

Tyrion filled what was left of the wine into his glass. He wiggled out of his chair, and Jaime watched as he paced away from him. Tyrion stopped for just a moment. He turned and locked his eyes with Jaime. "Get some sleep, brother."

He turned away from him once more, and Jaime watched as his brother disappeared around the corner. He smiled to himself. Even after all that has happened, Tyrion still knew the right things to say to bring him up.

Jaime was unsure of what to do. There were so many different path laid out in his mind, but there was one thing that he was certain of. He had to end things with Cersei.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** I'm really happy with how this chapter turned out. I struggled with writers block, but I'm just so content the final draft. Thanks for all your reviews. I appreciated it so much!

Chapter 2

It had only been a week since the capture of Daenerys Targaryen. The castle was buzzing with a dozen rumors, but Tyrion ignored every single one of them. He admitted that his mind was piqued with curiosity, but petty rumors would do nothing satisfy it. The only way he would discover anything was by talking to the girl himself, and that is exactly what he intended to do.

Of course, he was not supposed to be anywhere near her cell, but this wouldn't be the first time he deliberately disobeyed his sister's commands. He smirked to himself as he whistled down the dungeon hallway. He approached the guard in front of her cell. The guard sneezed, and wiped the snot from his nose on his gauntlet. Tyrion cringed at the sight.

"I'm here to see the Targaryen girl."

"You must have permission from King Joffrey or the Queen," the guard sputtered out.

"Yes, yes, I know this," he said. "I assure you I have been granted permission."

The guard sneezed again, and Tyrion wrinkled his nose in disgust. He watched as the guard brought his gauntlet to his nose. He refused to watch it again.

"Please don't," Tyrion said. "I'd rather not watch you wipe the snot from your nose again. Now, with your good hand, unlock this cell for me."

The guard grabbed a ring of keys from his belt and unlocked the door. Tyrion pushed the door open and peered inside the cell. She looked just like he imagined her to be, pale skin with white hair. He gave her a small smile, but she rolled her eyes at him in contempt. She would be stubborn, but Tyrion was up to the challenge.

"Do you need my assistance?" the guard asked.

"I'm more than capable of handling this on my own. Go find something important to do, will you?"

The door slammed shut behind him, and he took a few steps forward. The wrathful look in her eyes made him feel a bit uneasy, but he supposed it was better than the usual look of revulsion he'd get from people. He took another step forward before he plopped himself down on the floor..

"My sister isn't always the best at first impressions."

Daenerys rolled her eyes and scoffed at him. He flashed a smile in spite of it.

"I'm Tyrion Lannister," he said. "I'm not here to berate you with questions. I'm not here to make threats like the rest of my family."

Her eyes narrowed at him, but he would not give up. He searched his vest for a roll he smuggled in for her. He set a handkerchief down on the floor and placed the roll on top of it. She did not touch it.

"Go on," he encouraged.

"How do I know it isn't poisoned?" she questioned.

"If the Joffrey wanted you dead, he'd be far less discrete about it. He is into all the theatrics of execution. I assure you that the roll is untainted."

He watched her snatch the bread from the handkerchief. She pulled a piece from it, and plopped it into her mouth.

"It's not bad," she said. "Better than the mush they've been feeding me."

Tyrion let out a laugh. "I wouldn't eat anything that thing out there fed me either."

She choked back a small laugh. Her eyes became cold once more, but Tyrion couldn't help but smile. He had gotten her to open up even if only for a second. He felt his pride swell at his small victory.

"Your brother is responsible for the death of my father, and because of his death, my childhood..." she paused.

"It wouldn't be fair if I spoke for my brother in his absence, but Jaime did have his reasons for taking your father's life. I don't expect you to forgive him, but I'm sure that you've killed others for reasons of your own."

He watched her violet eyes fall to the floor. She became silent, and she couldn't even look him at him.

"I refuse to believe his reasons were as justified."

"And, I'm sure that's exactly how your victim's families feel as well," Tyrion commented.

She scoffed at him again.

"I'm not saying your reasons were unjustified, but I can assure you my brother's reasons weren't a petty play for power."

Her eyes were fixed on him. He could see her rage build within them. He had hoped that in speaking with her he might be able to establish an understanding, but it was clear that she was not ready to see passed her father's death yet. It didn't bother him. Perhaps she'd never let it go, and that was completely fine with him.

"I must be on my way," Tyrion said. "But it was a pleasure to finally meet you."

She did not reply. She just turned her head to the side, and he could see the bitterness in her face. He wondered about her brother, and what this woman might have seen growing up. He turned to the door as various theories filled his head. He gave the door a small knock to signal he was finished. The door opened. He gave her one last glance, and then, he went on his way.

* * *

Jaime's boots struck the floor with haste. Anger and worry swelled in his chest as he rushed to his brother's room. It frustrated him when his brother would create these kinds of situations, and he thanked the gods that the guard had informed him before his sister or Joffrey. His gut wrenched as it always did when he thought of his bastard son and the horrendous actions he had committed since ascending to the throne.

He hammered his fist against Tyrion's door. He crossed his arms as he continued to stew in his own anger. The door swung open, and he glared down at his brother.

"Jaime?" Tyrion's brow furrowed.

"Tyrion," his voice was stiff, and he paused to let out a staggered breath. He entered his brother's chambers, and slammed the door behind him. He spotted Sansa's handmaiden seated at a table with a glass of wine before her. "What in all the seven bloody hells is your wife's handmaiden doing in here?"

Shae pulled herself from her seat without a word. Jaime waited to hear the door slam shut before he whispered in anger, "Just because we share the same blood does not mean that you can just do as you please. If Cersei wishes, she'll–"

"Oh dear, the buffoon must have ratted me out," Tyrion's voice was light of heart as if he did not have a care in the world. "You had me worried there for a minute."

"This is not a game," he said. "What you did today could–"

"Calm down, brother," Tyrion said. "I was just speaking with our prisoner since neither you or Cersei seem to be getting anywhere with your threats."

"I've barely spoken to the girl," Jaime replied.

"Well, perhaps you should then," Tyrion suggested. "I didn't speak to her for long, but I imagine she's got quite a story to tell."

"I _killed_ her father. There is nothing I can say to her that will result into anything worth while," Jaime replied.

That memory came back to him in a flash. He could still feel the hilt of his sword held tightly in his hand. He remembered staring down at Eddard Stark as he sat upon the iron throne. In that brief moment, he felt as if he were one with the gods.

He watched Tyrion climb into an empty chair near his table. Tyrion filled two glasses of wine, and he pushed one over to an empty seat. "Tyrion, I didn't come here to drink the day away with you."

"You came to warn me of my the horrible things my sister might do to me?" Tyrion said. "If you believe I'm not aware of her nature, you're terribly mistaken. I was just picking our prisoner's brain is all. It's not as if I was trying to concoct a plan to free her. Now, why don't you sit and have a drink."

"I've been drinking more than usual these days."

"I am aware of that," Tyrion replied.

Tyrion pushed the wine glass a tad further. Jaime approached the table and debated on whether he should have a drink. He sat across from his brother. He took the glass in his hand and took a long sip. He hated that he drank so much, but at the same time, he looked forward to it almost every night.

"Next time you speak with Daenerys, do so without our sister around. Cersei's threats may bring some people to their knees, but this one will not easily cave under pressure. I trust that you are capable with coming up with a better game plan the tossing death threats around."

Jaime listened to Tyrion speak, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized he no longer wanted to be involved.

"I really don't care," he paused to take a sip of his wine. "You are aware how this will end, right? The same way it always does. At some point, we'll discover all her secrets. My sister will react, and my – _our nephew_ will call for her execution. They'll make a huge spectacle of her execution just like they did with Stark. We'll all go back to our lives until our family finds something else to fuss over. It's a never ending process that I'm done being a part of."

As he finished his confession, he felt as if the walls were closing in on him. He couldn't remember feeling so trapped in his life. He wanted to run to the other side of Westeros, perhaps in Pentos, where no one would ever find him. He imagined that he'd have to trade the comfort of the castle for a hut, but the peace he'd have would be worth so much more.

He allowed himself to envision that life for a moment. He imagined a small house in Pentos. His sister nor his bastard children were nowhere in sight. He could hear the sounds of wildlife as he woke up next to an imaginary woman. Life would be so simple...

That thought faded from his mind, and he reluctantly let it go in his heart. He could not let that fantasy become an obsession. If he did, he might one day act upon it, and it would surely get him killed. There was no where for him to hide. The whole world knew his family, and they either served his family or loathed his family. His good hand wrapped around his golden hand. There would be no place in the world he'd go unrecognized.

"I can't take myself out of this," Jaime said. "What else is there for me to do? Where else can I go? I'm trapped."

He saw confusion in his brother's features. Then, Tyrion released the tension in his face. His eyes softened as he gave his brother an encouraging smile. "Only if you believe it."

Jaime guzzled down the last bit of his wine, and rose from his seat. His anger started to subside, and his head became light from the wine. "Just watch out for yourself, Tyrion. You may be part of our family, but you know how our father and mother can be. You're not safe."

"I know this," Tyrion said.

It wasn't late enough to retire to his chambers yet. He debated just killing another bottle of wine with his brother, but he resisted. There was a fleeting part of himself that urged him to go to Cersei, but he forced that urge away as soon as it came. He could easily just go to bed early, couldn't he?

_Or he could go see the Targaryen girl._ He allowed that thought to sit in his mind for a moment, and he decided in that moment that it was time he introduced himself. He snatch the wine from the table and guzzled a long sip straight from the bottle. He sat it back down. It was now or never.

* * *

Daenerys relaxed into the pile of hay on the floor. Her eyes were growing tired, and she hoped that her dreams would be sweeter than her reality tonight. Her situation was near hopeless, but Daenerys refused to accept defeat. Her life was not over until she was beheaded for all to see.

Still, she realized with each second, her chances of survival grew smaller. Joffrey did not appear to be patient, and she imagined he'd execute her regardless of his advisers better judgment. She needed to be quick. Not just for her own life, but so that she can be back to lead her people. Jorah was surely keeping them together in her absence, but she imagined they'd eventually grow restless without her.

She heard the iron door open. She rolled over from where she laid, and her insides twisted at the sight of the Kingslayer. He was dressed in plain clothes as opposed to armor this time. He walked to the center of the room, and she held her stare as her muscles tensed. It was clear to her that he wasn't here to bring her to Cersei or Joffrey.

She swallowed the bile that formed in her throat. She knew that he was capable of murder, and she feared that he might be capable of other monstrous acts. Torture was the first fear that came to mind followed by rape. She drew her legs together instinctively. She thought of the times that her brother would grab her breasts inappropriately in her childhood, and she only feared that the Kingslayer might do worse. She imagined she'd lose her mind if humiliated her in such a way.

"My brother visited you earlier?" he asked.

She did not say a word. The less information she divulged to this man, the better.

"He's already informed me of his visit. My sister is completely unaware."

She sat up from the stack of hay and stared him down like a hawk. So, both of the Lannister Brothers were deliberately going behind her sister's back to speak with her. This sparked her curiosity. She watched him closely, waiting for him to speak.

"I killed your father," he said. "It had to be done."

Anger spread through of her like wildfire. _It had to be done_. That was all he could say on the matter. She refused to accept this half apology as a legitimate explanation.

"He was going mad. He was about to set King's Landing on fire, because he believed fire would transform him into a dragon. He was going to kill thousands of people if I did not intervene."

Her gut wrenched as she listened. She thought of her brother's own madness, and she had always hoped that perhaps her father was different. She thought that history had painted him in an awful light, but a part of her was starting to believe otherwise.

"My nephew," she could hear a hint of bitterness in his voice, "He may be just as mad, but I can't find it in myself to kill him."

She wasn't sure what to make of his words. She started to relax, and her eyes softened just a bit. It was clear now that he was not here to harm her.

"But, it was so easy for you put a sword in my father's back, someone you were sworn to protect. Yet, you can't put down that brat on the thrown that you clearly have no respect for?"

"It wasn't easy," he was defensive now. "And, it's not that simple. There are things you don't know."

He drew his eyes away from her, and she could see the shame in his features. Whatever he wasn't telling her was no doubt tearing him to pieces inside.

"Your brother is dead?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "And, the world is better for it."

"Did you even mourn for him?"

"No," she said without a hint of regret.

She refused to go further on the subject. Speaking of Viserys would only rile her anger further, and she was far too tired for a shouting match.

She looked him dead in the eye. She had always imagined that the Kingslayer to be more confident and threatening. What she saw before her was a broken, confused man. She could see that he was coming apart like splintered wood, and she was unsure of what to make of it all.

"You're not what I always imagined you to be," she confessed.

"You aren't either," he admitted.

She was unsure of what to make of his statement. She watched as he left the room without another so much as a goodbye. The door shut behind him.

The man was emotionally crippled. She could see it in the way he walked, the way he talked, but especially in the way he looked at her. Then, it all came to her at once. If she were correct, she could convince him to free her.

She laid back on the slump of hay. Her dreams were that night were as sweet as she had hoped them to be.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **Hey, thanks for all the feedback. I managed to get another chapter out. I really, really wish I had a little bit more time to flesh out Daenerys part in this. Alas, I'm going to Vegas tomorrow, and I doubt I'll be spending the next week writing fanfiction. I've got a pretty good idea where this is going now, and the next few chapters are really when the plot starts to roll. So, I hope you enjoy, and I'll get another update out as soon as I can.

Chapter 3

A ray of sunlight cast upon his face, stirring him from his sleep. Jaime's eyes blinked a few times as they adjusted to the light. He stared up at the bed canopy, and all he wanted to do was fall back to sleep. His dreams were sweet. He remembered falling through a starry night sky. A faceless woman with wings caught him, and she held him so gently.

Joffrey's wedding was approaching, and that awful feeling of hopelessness and disdain reemerged. People would often ask him what he thought of his nephew's soon to be wife. He'd try to give them a dismissive answer, but alas, people would continue to attack him with their questions. He wished he'd arrived back in King's Landing after the wedding had come to pass.

He sat up in his bed and pressed his fingers to his forehead. He fell into a cycle of self loathing as thoughts of Joffrey filled his head. He had forgotten how much he hated that disgusting abomination he'd brought upon the world. His blood boiled with anger, and it took everything within him not to explode in a sudden fit of anger.

Jaime sometimes envied the peasants his family ruled. Their opportunities to live a lucrative lifestyle were few and far between, but they had the small luxury of living a life outside of gossip and scandal. There was no privacy for a Lannister. There would always be someone prying into his life. Even in the moments he appeared to be alone, Jaime knew that someone was knew every meager, insignificant detail of his life.

He tossed his blanket aside and pulled himself from his bed. As he dressed himself, he thought of ordering a servant to deliver him breakfast. He could just stay in his room for the rest of the day. He could hide it all.

_She_ crossed his mind. He could see her violet eyes staring him down. Their conversation seemed to repeat itself over and over. The guard might question Tyrion for meddling in the dungeon, but people rarely questioned his loyalty to the crown. It was ironic in a sense, because he had been questioning his loyalties since the day he returned.

He finished buttoning his white cloak. He heard a brief knock in the door. He rolled his eyes in irritation at the sound. Then, he forced himself over to the door and opened it with a smile.

"Tyrion?"

"It's Joffrey," Tyrion said. "He wants you to bring Daenerys to him."

"Seven hells, I just got out of bed," Jaime swore. "Can we go one day without any of this?"

He felt as if he'd been kicked in the gut. He did not want to be a part of Joffrey's horrendous displays of brutality. He swallowed the bile in the back of his throat. He had heard of the many atrocities committed against Sansa Stark, and he wasn't sure if he could sit stomach viewing such actions.

He looked down at his brother. "If you can, tell him I'll be there in twenty minutes."

He paced over to the table and snatched the sword. He took a small moment to regain his composure. Then, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

There was always a rush of nervous excitement whenever the door open. Most of the time, a guard would drop a bowl of food on the floor without a word. However, it was those rare moments of human interaction she awaited.

Daenerys rose from the stack of hay. It was the Kingslayer, and he held a look of pure dread on his face. She gathered that she would be leaving the cell this time, and she assumed it was either Cersei or Joffrey that asked to see her. Daenerys rose to her feet. She held her arms out without argument as Jaime placed shackles around them.

"Look, don't do anything stupid," Jaime said.

She rose an eyebrow. "You're taking me to Joffrey I assume."

"Yes," he said.

Daenerys tried to keep her her facial features even, but she was sure her showed small flecks of anxiety over what was to come. She did her best to hide her small insecurities as she met his gaze.

"If you think I should just kneel–"

He let out an agitated grown. "You can't just mouth of to the king and expect to live. You have to play his game even if it means you have to appear vulnerable."

"So, that's how you all live? Playing some sort of game?"

"Yes, that's how it was when your father ruled," he said. "That's how it is now. That's how it always will be."

That small bit of vulnerability crossed his features again. If she wanted to continue with her plan, she needed to play on it now.

"Is that how you will live your life, then?" she asked. "You're going to forever play this _game_ until you die."

"I'm not naïve enough to believe I'll win. I don't think anyone really can _win_," he fell silent for a few moments. "Just...come with me. Don't get yourself killed."

She chewed over his words. He was being what people would call realistic. She understood this, but she knew she just couldn't. She did not want to die a coward.

She followed him out of the cell and into the dingy hallway. She had stared daggers into his back days ago, but she didn't this time. It surprised her that her animosity towards him had decreased slightly. She noticed that her dissipated anger felt comfortable almost. She hadn't forgiven him, but letting go of that bitterness felt relieving.

Their journey to the throne room was a quiet one. She put on a mask of fearlessness as she walked by servants, guests, and countless other people that resided within. If she were to die today, she did not want to be remember as the pathetic Targaryen girl that dissolved into a pile of tears upon her death. If story's were to be created about her untimely death, she wanted them to be somewhat of a heroic tragedy.

Daenerys stood before the double doors of the throne room. She mentally reminded herself to take in every detail of the room before her. She would see it again in her dreams where she would sit upon the throne that would one day be hers again.

As the doors opened, she took in every single detail. She followed Jaime inside as her eyes searched the room. It was bigger than she remembered it to be. She hadn't noticed the bronze vines and leaves that decorated the pillars nor did she remember the boxy patterns on the marble floors. Daenerys stared forward. There it was, the throne her father once sat upon with that brat sitting righteously upon it. Once she came back to take the castle, she would relish in giving him the most horrible death she could think of.

Joffrey straightened himself, and Daenerys took two bold steps forward. She was about to lash out at him, but the Kingslayer grabbed her wrist. He held a little bit too tight, and she remembered his words.

_Don't do anything stupid._

What did he want from her? In a castle full of vultures ready to tear her to shreds, she wished that the only person that showed some kind of concern for her wasn't the one man she spent the last years wishing to kill.

Cersei stood next to her son with her cold stare. Her eyes glanced over at Tyrion. He looked so small standing next to a tall redheaded girl. Daenerys focused on that girl. The redhead's lips were parted slightly, and there was this look of terror upon her face. That girl must have seen a lot of things, and Daenerys began to realize the gravity of her situation. Within the next few minutes, she may not even be living anymore.

"You asked for Daenerys Targaryen, your grace?" Jaime said.

All of Daenerys's sense intensified three fold. She thought of several painful memories from her childhood, and she was beginning to feel like the helpless little girl she once was. If she was lucky, she might live the night. If she wasn't, she may die the most painful death Joffrey could conjure up.

And, in that moment, she swore she could barely make out Drogo standing before her, waiting for her to join him in death. It was the only thought that could suppress the anxiety within her. If this was her last hour, at least she'd be with him soon.

_My sun and stars..._

Joffrey's laugh pulled her away from that thought. She watched as the boy relaxed back into his throne with a sneer across his face. "You were lucky enough to escape my father. You should have stayed on your side on your side of the world, you little _inbred _bitch."

Daenerys narrowed her eyes a took a step forward at his words. She managed to steal a glance at Cersei. Her face was tilted towards the ground as she bit her lip. Perhaps even that vile woman saw poor taste Joffrey's joke.

"It's not as if my parentage was my choice, _Joffrey Baratheon_," she was careful to enunciate his name in the most disrespectful tone she could muster.

"When you address me, you will address me appropriately as your king_,_" he snarled.

"I don't think I will. You are not my king, and the throne you sit on belongs to my family not yours."

_Don't do anything stupid._ She supposed it was a little late to head his warnings now. She didn't care. If she were to die today for showing Joffrey disrespect, it was worth it.

"Do you not realize that I can order your execution at this very moment?"

"I do," she said. "I thought that's why you brought me here today. I don't believe that flattery or groveling for mercy will change my fate."

She waited for him to order her execution, but he changed the subject. "I've heard many stories about your dragons. I wish to know where they are."

"They are just that..._stories_," Daenerys lie came out more smoothly than she had imagined it.

"Pity," he said. "I may have spared your live in exchange for them."

His words cut into her like knifes. She took in a sharp breath as she prepared herself. She'd be with Drogo soon.

"Tomorrow, you shall be beheaded for the public to see," Joffrey announced. "Uncle Jaime, return her to her cell."

His announcement felt like dead weight on her shoulders. It was near impossible to escape within the span of twenty four hours, and she wasn't foolish enough to believe anyone would come to her rescue. She had an entire night to dwell on her impeding death, and she almost wished that they'd just kill her right there and then.

She felt Jaime tug at her arm, and she followed without question. She wore a mask of indifference as she followed him back to her cell. She could come forward about the dragons, but then, she'd put her people in jeopardy. They needed to live on without her. Perhaps she'd become of martyr of some sort, and her legacy would carry on through Jorah. It was the most she could hope for.

When they finally returned to her cell, she entered without a word. He slammed the door behind her, and she wished he'd just left her there.

He let out a sigh before saying. "What did I tell you?"

"I don't see why it matters to you, Kingslayer," she snapped.

"Because..." he paused. "I guess it shouldn't matter, but it does. This won't be the last time he executes his enemies on a whim, and I sometimes wonder if I might be where you are one day – Daenerys, you should have begged for your life and even made him believe that you had dragons. That might have stopped him."

Daenerys furrowed her brow in confusion as she searched his face for answers. "I don't understand. I shouldn't matter to you. Why are you trying to help me?"

"I'm not trying to..." his voice trailed off.

"You don't want to be here either, do you?"

"I'm not..." he fell quiet again.

She turned her back on him. "So, this is how I am to die. It's only fitting that the gods allowed me to make peace with you so that I wouldn't carry that anger with me into the afterlife."

"Maybe so," she heard him say.

She turned back to him. "My death tomorrow is certain tomorrow, but you and your brother can still fix this. If what you say of my father is true, and your nephew is just the same, you can't let this continue."

He said nothing. He just lowered his head. She could see shame written across his features. She wanted to pity him, but she couldn't. Not now. Not when she was about to die. Her sympathies were limited, and she needed to save them for her people who may be lost without her.

"Leave me," she said. "I need to be alone."

He didn't say a word. He just left her there. She fell to her knees. She allowed herself one tear, and then, she prayed.

To Be Continued


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **Yay! Another update! I'm having so much fun with this, and the next chapters I'm super excited about posting. Thanks so much for your favs, follows, and reviews. They are so appreciated. Seriously, you guys make my day!

Chapter 4

Tomorrow would bring about a spectacle in King's Landing. Thousands of peasants would watch a beheading of a young woman they did not even know. Jaime supposed that some of the peasants would attend out of blind devotion to the crown, but he suspected that most of them would attend out of boredom. It wasn't everyday that the court beheaded a traitor in public, and he couldn't think of a time before hand that a woman had been executed publicly in King's Landing.

Like every rumor, it spread through the castle like fire in the wild. An overly excited servant girl asked him if he'd slay her just like her father. He answered promptly with a simple _no_, and he walked passed her without so much as a glance. The situations that his family would stir no longer excited him, and he had already decided he'd leave the castle if the opportunity presented itself.

"Ser Jaime..."

He knew the owner of that voice – Brienne. A smile crept on his face. His brother aside, Brienne was the only person he enjoyed being around these days.

"You look unwell," she said.

He gave a weak smile. "I'm just tired."

She leaned against the balcony and returned his smile. "All the chaos today has gotten me a bit tired myself."

"Get used to it. These situations happen twice a month here."

"And, you wanted so dearly to return home," Brienne joked.

"Yes, I did," he said with a certain bitterness.

Brienne let out a deep sigh. "Perhaps I'm foolish, but I do sympathize for Aery Targaryen's daughter."

"I suppose I'm a fool myself then," he replied. "And, I'm the one that put a sword in her back."

The thought stirred an uncomfortable feeling within him. It was the last thing that he wanted to think about at the moment. He swallowed roughly and forced the thought away.

"Why are you here, Brienne? You've done your duty. You don't have to be here."

"I...I'm not sure," she stuttered. "I don't like it her, but I stay. I suppose I'm just waiting for a reason to leave."

He gave another faint smile. He wanted to admit to her that he felt exactly the same way, but it wasn't wise. There were spies among the castle. He was certain that he had evaded Cersei's, but he was positive that one of Varys's little rats already knew more than he was comfortable with.

It shouldn't worry him. That information would be of no use after Daenerys was put to death. However, that made him feel even more uncomfortable. He felt like a coward for attempting to find relief in such a thought, and being in Brienne's presence only intensified his feelings of dishonor.

"If they are to execute a young girl, I just wish it weren't to be done publicly. The girl isn't much older than Lady Sansa, is she?" Brienne asked. "Daenerys may be stronger under pressure, but I imagine she's just as frightened as Sansa."

"I don't think it matters how old she is. My family would behead a four year old in public if it suited them," Jaime replied.

Brienne gave him a hard long stare, and he grew uncomfortable as he processed his previous words. He took in a deep breath and reworded his statement. "Brienne, I can't say I always agree with what happens here, but there is hardly anything I can do about to stop anything."

"You know that isn't true," she said. "There must be something..."

Jaime just groaned. He didn't want to think about it anymore. "I wish we were still on the road."

"If I can remember, you obsessed about returning home the whole time."

He thought on Brienne's words. Yes, he did remember longing to see Cersei. He longed for clean clothes, fine food, and a cozy bed to lie in at night. He wanted to drink the fanciest wine with his younger brother just as they always had for years. Yet, he was not happy with any of it.

"I thought I wanted this," he said. "It's different now. I never thought I'd say this, but life was much easier during Robert's reign."

She laughed softly. "I wish I had seen King's Landing at the time. I thought many things about this city, and now I don't understand why people yearn to live here."

"Ah, it's the promise of wine and romance, Brienne! Most of all, the opportunity to become something so much more!"

They both erupted into laughter at Jaime's words. Then, Jaime's smile faded as easily as it came.

"The common folk believe they can prosper here," Jaime stated. "I don't think they realize that it's damn near impossible to rise in a city ran by old rich families."

"A fool might believe the King's Landing is his oyster, but I doubt most that migrate here believe they can be a part of the court," Brienne said. "The smarter ones...I imagine they come here to perhaps make a few extra coins than they would outside the city."

"Oddly enough, the more I think about it, Brienne. The more I wish I was down there with them."

Jaime turned from the balcony dismissively. It was getting late, and he was ready to retire to his chambers. Perhaps he'd kill a bottle of rum to ease him to sleep.

"Good night, Brienne..."

"Good night, Ser Jaime..."

He entered the castle and walked through the empty hallways. The castle, the city – it would be a circus tomorrow. There would be enough commotion to satisfy any notorious gossip for a year. He was getting a headache at the very thought.

He calmed himself. Her death really meant nothing. She would be just some dead girl that would stir guilt within him from time to time. It was something that had to happen. There wasn't much he could do about it anyways. That's what he told himself since Joffrey's order for his execution, and that's what he assumed he'd tell himself for the rest of his life.

"Uncle Jaime?"

His skin felt as if it were struck by thousands of needles. He turned slowly as he faced the last person he wished to see. "Your grace."

"I haven't seen much of you lately."

"I've been," he paused, searching for the correct words. "I've been coping with the abuse I took at the hands of the Starks. I apologize."

"Mother is worried. She says you've been distant," his voice was calm, _too_ calm even.

"It was not my intention to worry her," he replied and forced a smile. "Does she wish to see me?"

"Perhaps you should ask her yourself."

Jaime tried to respond, but could not find the words. He just held his gaze.

"Grandfather had this wonderful idea," Joffrey's eyes lit up. "You executed Aerys...you should do the honors in sending him his daughter tomorrow."

"I – I'm not sure," Jaime said. "I've been ill, and my uh, hand situation...I might not be the best–"

"You _should _do the honors," his eyes dilated as he spoke. "It would make mother very happy."

"I guess...I," he stammered.

"Great!" Joffrey did a tiny little leap. "I can hardly wait. You shan't tell Lady Margery, but I'm _so_ much more excited for this than my silly wedding."

"No, no," Jaime faked a stiff smile. "I won't say a word. Your secret's safe with me."

"I must go tell mother!" Joffrey said with an unusual amount of excitement. "She will be so happy."

As Joffrey rushed passed him, the gravity of his circumstances hit him. He wasn't even going to attend her execution, and now he was suddenly thrust the responsibility of being her executioner. His stomach lurched at the thought.

He didn't wish to kill Daenerys Targaryen.

His mind fell into a panic. His first thought was to turn back and return to Brienne. He'd offer to leave with her at first light. He knew she'd follow him anywhere, but the burden he'd be forcing her to carry was too great. She would be a public enemy, a traitor to the crown. The rest of her life she would live either running from the king's army or fighting against it. He could not bring that upon her, not after everything she had done for him.

He imagined him standing above Daenerys with his sword in hand. He only had one good hand. If he was lucky enough to get enough force, he might be able to take off her head in one swipe. It wasn't likely though. Tomorrow she'd die a horrible death.

Unless...

Like seeds planted in spring, an idea began to grow. It had to be one of the most outlandish ideas that ever crossed his mind, but the more he thought about it, the more it felt like the only escape he had.

* * *

It took him twenty minutes to return to his chambers. He sheathed his best sword and attached it to his belt. He grabbed coins, jewelry, and anything that could be pawned for money. He put on a pair of his best boots and trousers.

He saw an open bottle of rum on the table. He walked over and guzzled down a long sip for courage. More than likely, he would die within the next hour with Daenerys.

He mentally talked himself through the first stage of his plan over and over. He guzzled down another long sip. He set down the bottle roughly. He thought for a moment of just returning to bed, but he knew he couldn't bring himself to do so. He couldn't kill her tomorrow.

He forced himself forward. He paced down the hall as quickly as he could. As he approached the door to the dungeon, his heart pounded.

_Last chance to turn back_, he thought as he eyed two guards standing before the door. Sweat formed in his palm as he gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword. He needed to do this fast, and hopefully without his father or siblings having to be involved.

He thought of the two men that stood before him. They would die at his hand today. He took a moment to rationalize the treason and bloodshed he intended to commit. He drew his sword from his sheath, and plunged it into the first guard. He pulled it from the man as quick as possible before swinging it against the other man's neck. It stopped halfway, and he pulled it out.

The man fell to the ground, trying to form words. He spit up blood, and then, he fell to the ground with a thud. Two down...

Jaime pulled the door open, and thrust his sword into the first guard. He withdrew it, and blocked the sword of another guard. Fear slowly faded from his mind. He was running on adrenaline now. He clashed swords with the burly looking man. Once he found an opening, he stabbed the guard through a weak point in his armor.

He drew in a deep breath and walked further into the dungeon. A guard approached him, furrowing his brow in confusion. "Ser Jaime?"

He swung he thrust his blade directly though the man's neck. Another guard came rushing towards him, and he quickly struck him on the neck just as he did to one of the guards outside. He turned to slice into another one, but he blocked it with his sword. He quickly kicked the guard, and watched as he fell on his back. He swiftly thrust his sword into the guard and withdrew it.

Another one rushed him and swung his sword in Jaime's direction. Jaime blocked the sword. He swung his sword in an attempt to decapitate the guard, but he was blocked. The swords clashed together. The guard kicked him in the gut and he fell two steps backward. He regained his balance. A blade whistled in his direction and he blocked it just before it connected with him.

The guard pressed against his sword, trying to push him to the ground. Jaime felt a streak of panic. This needed to end before the castle became aware of his actions. He took a few steps back. The guard rushed him, and he side stepped swiftly. The guard hunched over as he nearly tripped over himself. Jaime's sword connected with enough downward force to decapitate the guard. He watched as the headless body hit the floor.

He could hear the sounds of several prisoners voices. He wondered if they hoped he'd free them. He wouldn't though. Some of the prisoners belonged there. He snatched the keys from the decapitated guard, and darted to Daenery's cell. She didn't belong here.

He fumbled with the keys and unlocked the door. He practically threw the door open. Their eyes met, and she stared at him in utter disbelief. He imagined the blood that speckled his face might have startled her. He sheathed his bloodstained sword in an attempt to show his loyalty.

"I'm not here to kill you," he said.

"What is this? What are you doing?"

"You have allies in the East?" he said.

She nodded, and then, furrowed her brow in confusion. "Yes."

"If you want to be back with your people, come with me."

She followed him without further question. She stopped for a moment as she looked upon the sea of blood and dead bodies in the dungeon.

"Come," he ordered. "We don't have much time."

They rushed through the dungeon. The door to the dungeon was still open, and he felt a jolt at that thought. No one had noticed yet. He darted through the open door. His eyes scanned the hall, it was empty. They ran down the end of the hall. Jaime peaked around the corner.

The next hall was clear, and he ran with her till they reached the end. When he peered around the hall, he saw his father and sister speaking with each other. He felt as if he had been punched in the gut. He snatched Daenerys's hand and pulled her into the nearest room.

He closed the door as quickly as he could. Then, he let out a sigh of relief. He was safe...for now.

"Ser Jaime?"

He spun around to see the Stark girl. She rose from where she sat, and he could see pure terror in her eyes.

"Lady Sansa," he replied.

He had barely spoken to the girl in all the years he'd known her. She rarely even crossed his mind, but now, he felt the full weight of the crimes his family had committed against the girl.

"What are you–" her voice was quiet, sharp, and full of terror as it always was in his presence. "Why are you _her_?"

Her eyes widened as she fell back onto her stool. He had an idea of what was going through her little mind. She would be blamed, and she would be punished for it. He saw tears fall down her cheeks.

"Come with us," he offered.

"I don't have anywhere to go," she said. "My family is dead."

"You can live in the east," Daenerys said. "No one will hurt you under my rule."

Her head lowered. It took her a moment, but she finally said, "I can't. My responsibilities are to my husband."

Sansa paced over to her window and opened it. She was trembling with fear. She turned back to Jaime and staring him directly in the eye.

"I won't say you were here," she whispered. "Be quick about it."

"Thank you," Jaime said.

"I'm not doing this for _you. _If you weren't with her..." her voice trailed off as she eyed Daenerys. "I just know what it's like."

She walked passed them, and Jaime felt another jolt of relief when the door clicked shut.

"Who is she?" Daenerys asked.

"Sansa Stark," he said. "My family has done some unspeakable things to her."

Jaime approached the window. He peered down. He noticed a small ledge that led a roof to a lower story of the castle. There were a few bricks that poked out from the side. It was a foolish idea. They'd probably fall.

Daenerys approached the window and stared down. "I doubt will make it, but I suppose it's better than being beheaded tomorrow."

He climbed onto the window sill. It would be difficult with just one hand, but not impossible. He turned back to Daenerys. "I hope you aren't afraid of heights."

He was sure they were going to die. He gave her one final glance. Then, he gripped the first brick with his left hand.

To Be Continued


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **I've finally gotten to the part of the story that I really want to write. I'm so happy with it. I know this is a weird pairing, but I'm glad some people like it. For all those hoping for Dany and Jaime to happen...the next chapter after this one is going to have some interesting stuff happen. Thanks for sticking with me you guys.

Chapter 5

When they scaled down the wall of the Red Keep, she thought of pushing him to his death. She couldn't bring herself to do it. When they made it to the ground, she could have ran off with out him. She stayed with him. She fond cloaks hanging outside the stable house and tossed one in his direction. While they darted through King's Landing, she wanted to just disappear around the corner.

As they darted made their way through the forest, her thoughts became much clearer. She knew this wasn't about staying alive. She did not need the Kingslayer to guide her through Westeros. She had accomplished so much more than an escape mission in the East. She had an army of followers waiting for her. Surely, making her way across the ocean wouldn't have been too hard to accomplish.

She tried to stir that fleck of anger she carried for him, but she couldn't. Here eyes fixated on his swaying cloak. He was the one that put a sword in her father's back. She should want nothing more than to return the favor.

She owed him her life..

She was in his debt, and she hated every bit of it.

"It should be morning soon," Jaime stated. "We can rest, but not for long."

Jaime crouched down next to the tree. He crossed his legs and leaned back into the trunk. He drew in a deep breath and smiled to himself.

"Here?" she said. "We're going to rest _here_?"

"With all do respect, _your grace_, I slept in a cramped wooden cage filled with my own shit," Jaime said. "This is nothing like the treatment I endured at the hands of Robb Stark."

Daenerys dropped next to him. Then, she wrapped her cloak tightly around her and curled into a ball. She tried to will herself to sleep. She pulled herself up and sat next to him.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Now?" Jaime asked, slightly annoyed. "We have to have this conversation, _now_?"

"I don't see why not," she paused. "Or are you waiting for the perfect moment."

He groaned loudly. "Well, if you insist, _your grace_."

He groaned inwardly as placed his hand on his forehead.

"Is it too much to ask to have this conversation in the morning?" he asked as he leaned his head against the tree.

"I need to know."

"Fine – I'm tired of King's Landing. Look, I know you want to sit your little butt on the Iron Throne just like your daddy, but–"

"It's my birthright," she snapped.

"Yes, yes, I know. I know. Let me finish!" he let out another groan. "After what you've witnessed...do you still want it?"

"Yes," she whispered. "More than ever."

"Gods, you're just as stubborn as my sister."

"I'm nothing like _her_," she snapped.

He rolled his eyes in frustration as he leaned against the tree. "Get some sleep. We've got a long day ahead of us."

She curled back into her ball. She was half tempted to just run off and find her own way back, but she couldn't. She had no knowledge of the western part of the world. She needed him, and it irritated her.

Her eyes felt heavy. She wiped her hand across them. She wanted to stay up longer.

She was scared to fall asleep. She feared that she might not wake up. She what would happen to her if Joffrey's men found her. That was her last thought before she went to sleep, and nightmares of the King and what he planned to do to her filled her dreams.

* * *

There was part of him that expected to wake in his chambers the next morning. He felt the dirt beneath his hands, and his eyes snapped open. He glanced over to his right. He had expected her to abandon him the first chance she got, but there she was still curled in her cloak.

He reached over with his right hand and shook her gently. She rolled over and pushed herself up. She sat brushed dirt and leaves that clang to her. Then, she sat with her legs crossed.

They sat in silence for a brief moment. He pieced together the events that led to this, and he was still surprised by it all. There was no way they'd be able to board a ship in King's Landing or any large city for that matter. They'd have to find a port in a smaller town, and even then, it would be risky.

"All of the king's men will be searching for us," he said. "We need to get off this continent the first chance we get."

"Do you have a plan?" he said.

"We'll head North," he said.

He expected them to get into another snippy argument, but she just nodded in agreement.

"We'll need to find horses," he said.

"Do we have money?" she asked.

"We're not going to buy them," he said. "That will bring too much attention to us."

"We're going to steal?" her voice firm with disapproval.

"Yes, we're going to _steal._"

He glanced over his shoulder to see her violet eyes glaring up at him.

"Look, I didn't have much time to plan our grand escape," he said. "We're going to have to get our hands...or hand in my case...dirty if we want to get out of Westeros alive."

She pressed her lips together into a scowl. Her eyes were still narrowed in disapproval, but she did not argue with him.

"Do you have money?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

"We'll take the horses and leave the enough to cover their loses," she suggested.

"Fine, if this pleases you, _your grace_," he said as he rolled his eyes.

He expected her to snap back at him, but her reply was simple. "It pleases me, Jaime. Thank you."

He smiled just a little. He couldn't remember her calling him by his given name. He expected that he'd refer to him as Kingslayer all the way to Pentos. Perhaps this trip wouldn't be as terrible as he had anticipated it to be.

He thought of their escape plan once more. There were several paths that he could take to escape Westeros. He weighed these options in his mind, and finally decided to head North. They would find a port at a smaller city and depart to the Eastern World. That reoccurring thought pervaded his mind. It was the one with the wife and kids. It was the one where he'd finally find piece away from his family.

He smiled to himself. After so long, he'd finally found the strength. It was time now. It was time to let go of Cersei. He felt a huge surge of relief at that thought.

He turned back to Daenerys with a smile upon his face. "We'll need to find horses. Then, we'll head North."

He took a step forward. He breathed. He was starting to realizing that he made the best decision. Each step forward was another step away from the past that haunted him since birth.

"Is it true?" she asked.

Then, there was this question, and he felt pulled back to that dark place. He knew exactly what she was going to ask, and he decided that he would answer truthfully.

"Yes," he said automatically. "Joffrey Baratheon is my biological son."

"You laid with your sister?"

"Yes," he said with disgust. "I _laid_ with my sister."

Jaime had expected for her to be utterly revolted. He glanced into her eyes, but they seemed more sympathetic than anything. It actually made him feel a bit more uncomfortable.

"You loved her?"

"Yes, I loved her," he admitted her. "I had loved her until the world became _**this**_. Now, she's changed. She's always been _difficult_, but the path she's been on since Robert's death has been more destructive than I have ever seen her."

He glanced over to her, and he swore he still saw a bit of compassion in them. No, why would she? She must think him repulsive.

"I imagine a lot of people fall in love with terrible people," she responded. "I've had one husband, and I can honestly say he's the only one I have loved. It turned out better than I believed it would. I truly miss him every day."

"He's dead?" Jaime asked.

"Yes," there was a quiver in her voice. "He's dead."

"Do you believe you'll ever find someone else?" he wasn't sure why he asked it, but the words seem to fly out of his mouth.

"For a long time, I believed I wouldn't," she smiled and paused on that thought. "Lately, I feel like perhaps one day I'll find someone else to share my world with."

A wistful smile formed on her lips and she continued, "I am just grateful to still be among the living more than anything else."

They were quiet for a few paces. Jaime felt the tension roll off his back. When she wasn't snipping at him, she was actually calming to be around. He'd never opened up to someone like this, not even Tyrion or Brienne.

"What do you plan to do when you get to the East?"

He laughed. "So, you're still not hell bent on killing me."

She laughed with him. "No, Jaime of House Lannister, I am not hellbent on killing you. I owe you my life and my freedom. That, I suppose, is enough to pardon your execution."

They both laughed. He liked it better like this...when she was being so demanding.

"I never wanted a family all my life," he said. "But maybe, I'll just find some girl to settle down with in Bravos. I won't have my family's money, but I'll make it work."

"Have you ever been to the East before?" she asked.

"I can't say I have," he said.

"I like it a lot better than Westeros," she admitted.

"And yet, you still want the Iron Throne?" he joked.

"Yes," she said.

"Well – I hope I _never_ end up back here."

He felt a sickening feeling in his gut. He tried to hold onto that dream of living out his peaceful life in Pentos, but there was this part of him that knew he'd get dragged back to King's Landing. He never thought he'd hope for it, but if it were to happen, he wanted more than anything to be serving Daenerys Targaryen instead of Joffrey.

He glanced over at Daenerys Targaryen. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, but his heart felt a bit soft. He breathed nervously. His next statement might be a bit too bold.

"Daenerys..."

He stopped dead in his tracts. She turned to look him in his eyes. He wanted to tell her that it was nothing. She might find his words disrespectful and completely uncalled for.

"If I hadn't killed your father, my father would have that night. I just wish I would have taken a part in it. I wish I would have rushed went with your brother. I regret all that I have done to you and your family."

Her head lowered. He saw a smile perk up on her lips. It eased his nerves just a bit.

She didn't speak on it. Her eyes were softer than normal. "It was a choice you made. You're forgiven."

They continued walking. He no longer wanted to touch the subject. "We need to find an inn in some run down old town. I'd like to hope we'll both get a better sleep tonight."

To Be Continued

**AN: **Like I said, for all those that are hoping for more Jaime x Dany scenes, stay tuned for the next chapter. I'm super excited for this fic. This fandom is so great and most of the people are so respectful. Thank you so much for your kind messages.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** It's sort of a short chapter, but I like how it came out. Plus, real life is hectic right now. So, updates might be short, but I will do my best to keep up with this story in a timely fashion. Thanks again for all your wonderful reviews. You guys are the best!

Chapter 6

The past few hours had been chaotic. Since her marriage to Tyrion Lannister, she had a brief reprieve from Cersei. Now Sansa stood before a vexed queen that held the most venomous gaze of contempt. Sansa did her best to compose herself – to appear as the lady she was taught to be.

"_Did you see them?_" Cersei's voice was thick with malice.

Sansa swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. Her palms were sweating, and there was this awful tingle that crawled through her skin.

"I did not, your grace."

She caught Joffrey sneering at her in the corner of her eye. She kept her breath even and tried to soothe herself with silent prayers to her mother. She did not regret aiding Daenerys in her escape, but there was a small tinge of regret she felt for not fleeing with them.

Sansa quieted her regret with reason. She did not know Daenerys Targaryen, and she wouldn't trust Jaime Lannister if someone bribed her with lemon cakes. As far as she was concerned, she was safer under the protection of Tyrion Lannister until Jon or Arya came for her. _If they came for her..._

She fought back a tear that threatened to escape. She had thought that her eldest brother would do the same, and he never came. She cursed Walder Frey. She cursed him for taken her brother, her mother, and her greatest chance for salvation from the Lannisters.

She thought over her words in her mind as Tywin and Cersei exchanged words. She caught another glance from Joffrey, and she saw as his grin widened into that sick sneer he always wore. He was hoping that they'd convict her of treason. She knew it. Nothing would please him more than having her head cut from her just like her father.

Cersei turned her gaze. "Where were you last night when my dear brother and the Targaryen disappeared?"

She didn't remember anyone seeing her leave her chambers. "I was sleeping until the warning bells rang. The Targaryen's were an enemy of my family. My father fought against them with yours. I had no intentions of going near her. I swear it."

Cersei studied her face, and she was sure that she knew. An uneven sick smile emerged upon her lips, and Sansa swore that the queen was about to tear her heart from her chest. Tyrion paced before her.

"My wife was sleeping, sister. I think that it is evident that Jaime was the one to free Daenerys. I doubt that a lady like Sansa is capable of slaying several guards," Tyrion paused for a minute. "Let us be reasonable here."

"Jaime could not have accomplished it with his left hand," an uneven quiver rang in Cersei's tone as she spoke. "He could not have freed her."

"He's been training with Bronn," Tyrion said. "He wanted private lessons, and I arrange them to his liking. I was unaware that he had treacherous intentions at the time."

Sansa watched as a tear fell down Cersei's cheek. It didn't pain her to watch the queen become fragile before her. Cersei had never shown her an ounce of sympathy since her the day she asked for Lady to be put down. Sansa actually found it amusing to watch her suffer the loss of someone she loved.

"I'm sorry sister," Tyrion said. "I love our brother, and there's a part of me that still misses him dearly. However, facts are facts. Jaime Lannister betrayed our family for Daenerys Targaryen. It hard for me to make sense of it, but that is the only logical conclusion."

Sansa watched as Cersei dissolved into a fit of tears. Sansa repressed a small smile that threatened to form as howled with anguish. She wiped her eyes, and she watched as her lips twisted with anger.

"Get her out of my sight!" Cersei screamed.

Tyrion rushed over to Sansa and tugged at her hand. Her tension seemed to dissipate as she followed Tyrion outside of the room. Each step she took down brought her closer to relief.

* * *

Rain poured heavily from the sky as thunder roared in the distance. Daenerys roll over in the single bed she shared with Jaime. When they arrived at the inn, the had bickered over who would lay in the bed. They finally came to an agreement to share it as long as they stayed on their own side.

Daenerys had her back turned from Jaime most of the night. Her arms were wrapped around herself defensively. It was an irrational action. If Jaime wanted to kill her, he would have allowed her execution to take place. Still, she could not allow herself to trust him fully.

It must be a habit she'd developed after she had lost Drogo. She could not trust anyone even if they're intentions seemed noble. It was how she had survived. It was how she had learned to protect herself.

Daenerys drew the covers to the side. She pulled herself up and sat cross legged on the bed. She was certain it would be months before she'd be able to sleep with ease once more.

The mattress shifted underneath her. She glanced over to her side. Jaime was rubbing his eyes as he sat up against the headboard.

"This damn rain," he said.

"It's a minor set back," she replied. "It could be much worse."

"For you," he said. "I'm not the one that was going to be executed."

"Is that so? If it was so great in the Red Keep, why did you ever decide to leave?"

He laid back down into the bed. "You're right. I suppose it wasn't that great."

"I'm surprised no one has turned us in yet," Jaime spoke.

"I doubt we've gone unnoticed completely," Daenerys spoke. "I'm assuming that people have as little respect for the king as we do."

"Bribes and torture will bring the answers they need in time."

Daenerys leaned back against the headboard and exhaled. "There are times I wonder how I am still alive."

"I have felt like that almost every day of my life," Jaime said. "My father, my sister, Joffrey...they've managed to piss of nearly everyone in the realm."

Jaime lifted his golden hand and grimaced. There was a story behind it, and curiosity was biting at her. "How did it happen?"

There was a brief pause between them, and Daenerys was sure that he ignored her question. She heard him draw in a deep breath of air. Then, he spoke. "I was on the road after I was freed from the Starks' prison, and I ran into some people that really, really hated my family."

He paused again. She watched as he tried to force a smile, but his pain was evident when he spoke. "The woman I was traveling with...they were going to do unspeakable things to them. I had a few words with them – stopped them from raping her. They took my hand off instead."

She wanted to ease his pain with words of comfort, but she couldn't find the words. She watched as he placed his left hand on top of his golden hand. His sad smile faltered as anguish crossed his features.

"I didn't receive any care for it until much later. I can't even remember how long I rode with my hand strung around my neck. I was certain of my death, and sometimes I even wished for it," he paused again before adding, "Sometimes I swear I can fell my right hand tingling when I wake up."

She wanted to offer words of sympathy, but she still could not find them. She knew that she felt some sort of sympathy for him. It made her feel uneasy. It made her feel guilt even.

"When I was seventeen, I knew your father had lost before I killed him. I've been thinking a lot, and sometimes I wish I would have just lived in exile with you and your brother."

She processed his words, and it took her a moment to find words to say. "I'm not sure if you would have wanted to be around my brother's madness."

"I'd live around several people of questionable sanity my entire life. At least that way it would have been just one."

She could not help but laugh. Daenerys pulled the covers around her, and laid back into the bed. Exhaustion was slowly catching up to her, and she was ready to sleep.

"We'll never know, but I guess it's fun to think about."

"That it is," he said.

She relaxed on into her pillow. A flash of lightening filled the roam and thunder roared loudly. She turned away from Jaime. She bit her lower lip. She wanted to hate him again. She regretted being foolish enough to find herself in this situation. Her fingers trembled. Now, she would never be able to kill him.


End file.
